


Respite

by weirdoqueen



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdoqueen/pseuds/weirdoqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas offers the Inquisitor a means by which she may escape the cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respite

   Lúthien could not shake the chill of Emprise du Lion from her bones. The Lavellan clan hailed from the Free Marches, which was a temperate region where snowfall was rare. Lúthien had only seen snow once before, when she was a young girl, but the initial excitement at being surrounded by the white stuff quickly wore off after the first few icy blasts of wind forced their way through her clothing. The fact that every rock in the area was generously studded with red lyrium was merely the glowing red cherry on the ice cold cake.

   "Mythal's ass, why would anyone live in a place like this," Lúthien muttered.

   Varric shrugged and replied, "Sometimes you just work with what you're stuck with. Living underground isn't ideal, but dwarves make do."

   Lúthien scoffed. "There's no snow underground."

   The Inquisitor endured, as was her duty. She did, at least, use a smidgen of her mana reserves to keep her fingers and toes warm. Despite Cassandra's insistence that they were at no risk for frostbite, Lúthien preferred to give herself the extra peace of mind.

\--

   When the sun’s edges skimmed the horizon, the group returned to camp. Lúthien removed her weapons and added another overcoat, an Orlesian creation she’d found in an abandoned estate that wouldn’t survive combat. She checked in with her requisitions officer and dropped off materials and held back a groan when given a new requisition. "Why do they take the minerals from the surveys? Can't they just see what I have?" She grumbled internally all the way to the camp cook, got her rations, and returned to her tent where she plopped down into a pile of blankets on her cot. She grabbed a book on magical technique and read while she picked at her food.

   After maybe ten minutes of solace, who better to break her evening than... Solas.

   "Is everything all right, vhenan?" he asked, pulling back a tent flap to poke his head inside.

   Lúthien scowled as a gust of cold air entered the tent. "It was until you let the cold in."

   "Ah. My apologies." He slipped inside the tent. "You hail from the Free Marches, do you not? This cold must be unpleasant for you."

   Lúthien pulled herself into a tighter ball amid her blankets. "Yes, I do, and no, it isn't. I don't recall inviting you inside, Solas."

   Solas paused in his tracks. "Would you have me leave, then?"

   The Inquisitor loosened and averted her gaze, letting the book fall in her lap for only an instant. A moment later, she met his gaze and held the book tightly. "I didn't say that, either." She glanced at the foot of her cot. "You may sit, if you like."

   Solas clasped his hands behind his back. "I would prefer not to, actually. I came here to show you something, Lúthien."

   "What is it?" she asked, before tossing the last piece of her dinner--a small piece of hard cheese--into her mouth.

  "It is not here, vhenan." He held out his hand. "Come with me."

   Lúthien eyed first his hand then his expression. "Please tell me if you're taking me to the Fade."

   A chuckle fell from his lips. "Not today. I merely want to help you escape the cold."

   She raised both brows, a smirk pulling at her lips. "So we're not going to the Fade. Are you going to throw me into the fire?"

    He grinned. "Nae, lethallan, why waste a good fire? I could just as easily cast one from my fingertips."

   Lúthien mirrored his expression and clapped her book shut. "Liar. I've never seen you cast even a single fireball."

   "That does not mean I lack the knowledge," he replied as she untangled herself from her blankets and approached him. When she stood close enough, he took her chin in his magic-warmed hand. "I simply choose not to actively wield it. Now, are you coming, or shall I carry you?"

   She smiled up at him, then glanced at the tent flaps and bit her lip. "It's cold out there, though," she murmured. She simpered once more. "Can you keep me warm on the way?"

   "I think that it would be best if I did not. You will see why."

\--

  They walked--and Lúthien shivered--through the night, accompanied by occasional snowflakes and the red glow of lyrium deposits. They bore no staffs, but they weren't vulnerable; mages needed no staff to wield their magic.

   "How do you stand this cold?" Lúthien asked, "You're even wearing less than I am."

  "You think too much of it, lethallan. If you just think of warmer things, then you will cease to suffer."

  She blinked, and looked up at him. "...That's quite universal advice for keeping warm."

  Solas shrugged. "A coincidence, nothing more." For a while, they let the silence settle upon them like the snowflakes dusting their shoulders. They walked arm in arm, matching their footsteps. Even their breathing took up a similar rhythm. Within the very region, red templars plotted to destroy them and their cause, but for now, they were not a concern.

  For now, Lúthien's only concern was to get out of the damned cold. She allowed herself enough mana to keep her hands and feet warm, but that just made everything else feel that much colder.

  "Solas, where are we going?" she asked as they ventured uphill.

   "Be patient," he replied, "We are almost there."

   She groaned. "Can't you give me a hint? Anything?"

   He pursed his lips. "Do you remember in Haven, you were complaining about the baths? How you mourned the lack of any nearby springs, and bemoaned the fact that only a single person could fit into a tub?"

   "It's not my fault humans have strange habits! Bathing is so boring with no room to swim and no friends to splash. Besides, how does that relate to wherever you're taking me?" She stopped in her tracks, then scurried in front of the man, clapping hands on either side of his face. "Solas, you sly dog, did you find me a proper bath? Here?"

   The taller elf tried to play coy, but no matter how stony his expression, he could not still the laugh that fluttered across his eyes. "Perhaps."

   "Are you trying to kill me? How is there even any liquid water in a place as cold as this?"

   Solas chuckled. "We are almost there, I promise, and it will not kill you, I promise."

  The shorter elf groaned, and Solas put his arm around her and drew her into his side.

   "How did the elvhen bathe?" she asked after a moment.

   Her companion looked down at her. "With water, I imagine."

   She lightly smacked his chest. "Remind me not to ask you any questions."

   He laughed. "Then how would you learn?"

   "Well, it's not like you’re the only knowledgeable person on the planet. Besides, I could read a book. They don't talk back."

  "Ah, but something tells me you'd loathe a world that wouldn't talk back. How would you spend your time?"

  "Easy. I'd read."

  "Is it that simple? I could disappear and be replaced by a book just like that?" He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Then what’s the point of having me around at all?"

   "Mm." Lúthien buried her face into Solas's side. "You're warm, for one."

   He chuckled softly. "Is that it? I might as well be a dog, then."

   "I can't kiss a dog, though. ...At least. Not... in the way that you and I do."

   He brushed a kiss against the Inquisitor's forehead. "In that case, I suppose I could be assigned a worse fate. So be it." He turned his gaze forward. "We are here."

   Above a ridge there rose a cloud of steam. Lúthien climbed up the rocks and froze. "You...how did--" Cutting herself off mid-sentence, she scrambled up the ridge and gazed at the hot pools of water in front of her.

   "What....what is....how...Is it safe?" she eventually managed, watching the ripples on the water.

   "It is as safe as any other river or lake that you would bathe in with your clan, lethallan. I noticed it during our travels. I thought you might appreciate it."

   "Yes, I--" Lúthien's words caught in her throat once she noticed that the majority of Solas's clothes were already folded and placed atop a nearby rock. All he wore were his boots, his trousers, and the jawbone slung around his neck.

  "...Do," she finished. She continued to stare at the water, dipping in the toe of her boot. "Is it safe?"

  Solas stepped into the water, and Lúthien found herself staring at his ass. Her gaze snapped upwards as he turned back to reply to her, but the smirk at the corner of his mouth hinted that he had noticed. She felt her cheeks redden.

  "It is safe, I made sure of that last evening." He ran his fingertips over the top of the water, and she watched the ripples that followed them. "Care to join me?" Her blush intensified and his brow furrowed and she cursed herself. She had spent her entire life bathing with family and friends, why was she now hesitant to disrobe in front of one of her kin?

   He frowned. "I apologize, I did not mean to--"

   "No, no, it's fine, it's just--ah--it's been a while, that's all."

   His eyes hovered on the buttons of her undercoat as she undid the sash of her overcoat and let it fall to the ground.

   "Of course," he murmured, averting his gaze. He submerged himself beneath the hot water to give himself more of a reason to not look at her. He felt guilty; he had not anticipated her disrobing to be an issue, since she had grown up in a clan that did not view the naked body as shameful or obscene, as did the elvhen of old.

  He resurfaced with a gasp--he forgot that water on his skin would make the air feel much colder. He heard Lúthien giggle as he wiped water from his eyes.

   "Will you ever cease to mock me, lethallan?" he grumbled. He heard splashes as she stepped into the hot spring.

   "Your skin's turning red," she murmured. She approached him and smoothed her palms over his skull. He kept his eyes closed and lay his hands over hers, pecking a kiss on the inside of her wrist. "I've never seen that happen before."

   "Have you not? It’s caused by the heat," he replied, opening his eyes. "Does your entire clan have skin like yours?" For a moment he felt the urge to count the gold flecks in her sienna eyes.

   "Most," she replied. "Those who do not were not born in the clan.  But we never bathed in hot water, so I suppose it just...never happened."

   "I see." He drew her into his arms and settled against a relatively comfortable rock. "Do you miss your clan?"

  She sighed, running a finger down from his clavicle before resting her palm on his chest. "Of course I do. I miss them terribly. My brothers and sister and my mother and father, and my best friend and my Keeper and the halla..." She huffed. "Dread wolf take you, why did you ask me? I try to forget that I haven't had my sister's honeycakes in months."

   "My apologies, vhenan," he planted a kiss atop her head, "I did not mean to make you homesick."

   She inched higher against his frame, leaning her cheek against his collarbone. "It's no matter. I would have thought of them nonetheless. Now I simply have you to blame for it, troublemaker."

   He barked out a laugh. "Troublemaker, hm? Remind me, who was it who felt the need to write obscenities within the margins of my notes?"

   ".......Sera."

   "...Perhaps, but who was it that actually executed the act."

   Lúthien grinned up at him, baring her teeth. "Guilty as charged," she purred.

   "If you are guilty, shall I bestow a sentence upon you?"

   She raised a brow at him. "That depends on the sentence."

   He chuckled. "I did not think criminals had a say in their sentences. All I wish of you is to hear of your family, vhenan. Nothing more."

   She settled against the crook of his left arm. "My mamae was the best archer in her clan. She came to our clan after she pledged to my dadae. At her wedding, she challenged all of our best archers to a contest and won. She's still the best archer in our clan, though she doesn't hunt anymore.

   "My dadae is a healer, he has a lot of books on herbs and I've read every one. My magic comes from his side. His brother is a mage, he left the clan some time ago, though.

   "My oldest brother is a hunter. He got our mamae's skills with a bow. When he was fourteen he killed a stag for my best friend Taliah. They were in love, for a time, but it didn't work out. He joined another clan a while ago, he pledged to a woman and I think he has a daughter now. He'd never admit it, but I think he still misses Taliah."

  "Are you and Taliah still on good terms?" Solas asked.

  "Hm? Oh, yes, of course. I still write to her, if I can. Was I to cast her aside simply because a relationship didn't work out? She was my friend, and I stood by her, just as I stood by my brother. They didn't get me involved, anyway, they were better than that. Now, I've still got two more siblings to speak of, or do you have any more pressing questions?"

   Solas gently squeezed her shoulder. "None for now. Please, continue."

   "My sister is beautiful. She has golden hair like my mamae, and she always wears it with flowers and braids. Once when I was little, and I had just come into my magic, I found her crying, and I asked why. She told me that she had been born with a man's body, and that she belonged in that of a woman. I promised her that I would learn how to use my magic to give her the body she wanted." The corner of her mouth pulled upwards as she reminisced. "Obviously I know better now, but I still wish I could do something for her."

   "Do you truly know better? You cannot know for certain, unless you know all magic, and I do not think that you do."

   Lúthien's eyes brightened. "Why do you say that? Do you know of a spell that could help?"

   "No, but I am not certain that there isn't one."

   "Oh? I've never seen a griffon, but as long as I don't know for certain that one isn't hiding somewhere out of sight, I cannot be sure they are extinct?"

   Solas sighed. "Must you be so difficult? I was only trying to comfort you, vhenan."

   "No, no, I understand. I'm sorry." She snuggled further into his side  "It's just hard to have hope for something when I gave it up so long ago."

   Solas frowned, and pressed his lips into the top of her head. "I believe you still have one more sibling to speak of," he murmured.

   Lúthien smiled. He felt her cheek move against his skin, and a soft wave of relief washed over him.

   "I do, yes," she began. "My little brother, Daeron. He's only four. He was... a bit of a surprise." Her smile widened. "He gets into the honey pots more often than I did as a child. He can already read a little bit, though. And he loves halla." She gave a long sigh. "I miss them, Solas. I miss reading to my brother and my sister braiding my hair and getting into trouble with my best friend. Sometimes I even miss the Keeper's nagging."

  He rubbed her shoulder, then slid his hand down to rest on top of hers. "I can imagine. Being away from home is not easy."

   "No, it is not. It is my first time being away from my clan for so long. Sometimes I used to dream about venturing outside for a time but... never did I think I would do anything like this."

  Solas chuckled. "I doubt anyone anticipates that they will make history. But tell me something, Lúthien: if you knew what awaited you at the conclave, would you still have gone? If you knew that you would be given the name Herald, that you would be given the title Inquisitor, if you knew... that you would be given the anchor." He thumbed the mark on her palm, feeling the magic tingle against his skin. "Would you still have gone?"

   She bit her lip in thought, then shifted so she could turn to meet his gaze. "Would I know that you would be here?"

   He was silent for a moment, then replied, "No. You would only know of the task at hand, and the part you would play in it. Perhaps you knew you would have companions, but not the... extent of their companionship."

   She bit at the inside of her cheek, her eyes averting in thought. “I would have.”

   He cocked his head. “Truly?”

   “Yes. I love my clan and I miss them but… there are more important things at stake here. I owe it to the world to protect it, and I… would do anything in my power to do so.”

  “This world has also taken from you, lethallan, it has destroyed your culture and it has massacred your people.”

   Lúthien pressed her lips into a line. “Perhaps it has. But I cannot hold grudges towards the dead. I can only hope the living will not repeat their actions.”

   Solas let out a long breath through his nostrils. He ran his thumb over her brow and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch as he combed fingers through her hair and tucked locks behind her ear.

   “How is it that one so young can be so wise?” he murmured, his eyes tracing her vallaslin. She wore the markings of Dirthamen, the keeper of secrets. He supposed that was a secret she would not easily surrender.

   She cracked her eyes open, her brows were slightly raised, her expression purred at him. “I thought you knew everything,” she replied in kind, her lips nearing his.

   He laughed once, softly, as though trying not to frighten away a bird that he had lured near. “Of course not. I only act like I do.”

   She paused, drawing away. “Oh? What was that? I’m sorry, can you say that again, louder, and perhaps put it in writing?”

   “I cannot, actually,” he replied, his hand snaking up her back.

   “Oh? And why n--mnph!” He knotted his hand in her hair and pulled her to him, slipping his tongue into her mouth, his free hand resting at the base of her neck.

   After a moment, he pulled away, and said with a grin on his breath: “I could not speak, vhenan, my mouth was otherwise occupied.”

   Lúthien’s escalated heart rate was apparent in the breathiness of her response. “There was still the option of writing, your hands are still free.”

   “Are they?” he replied, his hands smoothing down her back, resting just below her waist. “They don’t seem empty at the moment, and they would prefer to stay that way.”

   Her mind was rushing, her heart was racing, her tits were cold--...and that would be because they were out of the water. When had that happened? Probably when he had kissed her. The bastard. Why was she so hesitant? She knew she liked him, she knew she… wanted him so why did she feel so uneasy?

   “Tell me, Solas,” she began, settling back beneath the hot water. She sat beside him, her legs were draped over his.

   “Tell you what?” he replied, holding her even tighter.

   “About your family. I’ve been doing all the talking. Tell me about your parents, and the village where you grew up.”

   Solas shifted. “There is not much to say. My parents died when I was young. I did not spend much time at the village before I left. I preferred to spend my time in the Fade.”

   “So tell me about your spirit friends, then.”

   He smiled inwardly. “As you wish, vhenan. When I was young, I walked beside spirits of compassion and anger, jealousy and wisdom… It was quite a wealth of experience, but of course, hot-blooded as I was, I thought myself a master of it all.”

   “I find it hard to imagine that you were once more hot-blooded, Solas.”

   He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I thought myself above the things they showed me, like someone convinced they would not repeat the actions of their forefathers.” He pursed his lips and grew distant for a moment, but his expression grew lighter when he looked at her and said, “You would have enjoyed seeing my first meeting with a spirit of pride.”

   She smiled at him, her eyes wrinkling, a giggle in her throat, and he did not think he had ever seen anything so beautiful. He leaned forward to kiss her, and she met him halfway, pressing her lips against his, feeling his breath on her skin as he ran a hand over her hair, as a moan slipped from his throat when he opened his mouth against hers and their tongues danced. She pressed her body against his and smoothed her hands down his back, gripping his ass. His hands moved opposite hers, sliding upwards to grope her breasts, to cup her heartbeat in his hand. She was nervous, she was excited, she felt him harden against her thigh and she reached down to grab him, and felt him shudder against her mouth--

   He grabbed her wrist and pulled it away, and when he spoke he sounded rushed. “We shouldn’t,” he tried, but his words were weak, his heart betrayed his thoughts. She spread her fingers over his cheeks, meeting his pale blue gaze.

   “I want to,” she replied, and his hunger overcame him.

    She pressed him against the edge of the pool, urging her hands down his body, her fingertips hugging every curve of muscle beneath his skin. His hands clasped her ass, urging her closer to him. He wanted to stray further, he wanted to stray inside her, but he hesitated; she was inexperienced, he only wanted to go as far as she wanted, so he resigned himself to patience.

   Which, as it turned out, was not entirely all that difficult.

   A moan fell from his lips when she took him in her hands and pulled, a second moan was muffled in the back of her throat. He broke their kiss to mutter something in elvhen, and though she did not know the word, something told her to move faster. She made a sound of surprise when his hand flew to her breast and squeezed, his nails digging into her skin, his mouth latching onto her neck just below her jaw. His hips bucked against her hand, he pulled her closer until his shaft was sandwiched between their bellies, he moaned against the mark he made on her neck until she felt the jet of his cum below her sternum.

   He pressed his forehead against her clavicle, his hot breath between her breasts providing relief from the cold air. She ran her fingertips over his scalp, pressing a kiss onto the top of his head. He murmured again in elvhen, and she tightened her arms around him, as he did the same to her.

   When she began to shiver, he brushed a kiss against her collarbone, warming his lips with magic.

   “We should return,” he sighed, “It would not do for us to lose too much sleep.” He pulled away and was met with Lúthien’s pleading gaze. He could not help but smile softly. “There is always tomorrow night, or the night after that.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Our fingers are pruned, and the air is frigid, and it would not do for you to catch cold.”

   She giggled. “No, of course not, I have come too far to be brought down by a mere cough. Solas, promise me that if I take ill, you will throw me into battle with a dragon. Let the bards be unaware that my final downfall was my own body.”

   He echoed her laugh, but far more gently, as he once more was captivated by her gaze, her ember-hued eyes evoking the sun, a flame nestled against a backdrop of pale grey-blue--the color of his own eyes. How she would shine before him, how brightly she would burn, how she would draw the eye and yet, should the sky disappear....

   His smile flickered, and he whispered against her lips, “As you wish, Inquisitor.”

    

      

 


End file.
